Donna Raczynski is a former director of professional development with the
National Association for College Admission Counseling (NACAC). Every year
she sees thousands of fresh young faces, but she doubts the memory
of one determined young woman will ever be erased. The woman came to Raczynski's
office pleading to get into a rigorous occupational therapy program. But there
was one major hurdle -- the young woman was learning disabled.
"I went to my boss 15 times with her application. The student knew it was
going to be a long shot, but eventually my boss said, 'If you want her in
this badly and you see a spark in her, I'll admit her under a special summer
program. If she gets through that, she's in.'"
Raczynski's hunch didn't fail her and the student is now earning $80,000
a year as an occupational therapist. "The year she graduated, I got to co-chair
commencement and see her walk across the stage. The family still sends me
cards and her wedding picture still sits on my desk."
That's the kind of story that makes the career of an admissions counselor
-- the chance to give a student the special break they need, or even just
the guidance and encouragement to set them off on a career path to success.
Raczynski never intended to turn college admissions into a career. In fact
when she started out, the biggest draw was being able to stay in the area
where she grew up.
"I was working a long way from home -- about an eight-hour drive -- and
I wanted to return. I applied for two jobs, one as an account representative
and one at the college. I got both positions, but decided this was an opportunity
to meet a lot of people and do a lot of presentations," says Raczynski.
So she took the job and started to enjoy life on a university campus. "You
get to know all the faculty members on campus, get a chance to be able to
listen to guest lecturers, or even a string quartet. College campuses are
very exciting and energizing."
One of the frustrations of the job is encountering students without the
grades needed to get into the programs they want. Worse still are the cases
where finances hold students back. Raczynski recalls a few cases when applications
were made for all kinds of financial assistance. In the end, while some dollars
came through, it wasn't enough. "You can't take it personally, but sometimes
you do anyway," she says.
Ron Koger is the assistant vice-president for enrollment services at the
University of Alabama. He started out as a junior high school teacher, but
decided to return to school for a PhD in counseling education. After a few
years, he got disillusioned and went over to hospital administration. But
the love of working with students resurfaced during a career fair at his alma
mater in Pittsburgh.
Koger's timing couldn't have been better, and within a matter of months
he became the associate director of administration. He cautions students against
viewing admissions as a career for life.
"It's something you might do for three to four years and then move on to
an assistant or associate director assistant [position]," he says. Others
take their interest in counseling and move further into that area, or they
work for the alumni department or even in research.
Penny Bissett, an educational consultant, has worked as an admissions officer
for over 30 years. She's traveled from one end of the country to the other
and met hundreds of other counselors.
"It works for everybody," Bissett says, adding that your goal is to help
the students first. It's the students who get you up in the morning.
"When it was snowing outside and I knew I had to drive 200 miles, I'd do
anything not to go. But then I would see these faces that needed some help
and it just felt so good. Even if they didn't end up going to your school,
it didn't matter."
Even though the traveling eventually wore Bissett down, she developed a
bond with all the others doing the circuit.
"It was fun being part of a big group like that. You end up traveling with
the same 25 people and you literally spend your lives together."
Meeting people also means a lot of talking. One year she had 18 weeks of
traveling scheduled and she expected to see 40,000 students in that time.
And then trouble hit -- she lost her voice for six weeks.
"My vocal cords weren't permanently damaged, but it was close," Bissett
recalls. "I had to have speech therapy. You can do that so easily when you're
working so hard that you forget to breathe between your sentences."